


Deportment

by ladyofrosefire



Series: Disclosure- Critical Role fics [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Scars, mild reference to past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 00:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12024360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: Percy has very good reasons for keeping all his layers on around the team, but it's not a sustainable practice. Essentially, a glimpse into how Percy fails to hide his problems from his found family.Fits with "Disposition", and will make more sense if you read that first.





	Deportment

**Author's Note:**

> So there is a whole lot of people seeing each other naked by accident

The trouble with travelling in a group, Percy thinks, is the lack of privacy. It is not the only trouble, of course, but it is the one that by its very nature is hardest to escape. He likes their group. He doubts he would still be with them if he didn’t. But he would like them better if they had a little more modesty, and a little more regard for his own. 

He sees Grog naked first, unsurprisingly. It only makes sense that the person who runs into battle in one battered pair of pants will lose them eventually. It’s fine, really. Vax whistles loudly, Scanlan claps, Tiberius blusters. Vex just raises a brow and covers Keyleth’s eyes while Pike goes to find a new set of trousers. After that, Percy resigns himself to the reality that he is going to grow very familiar with what these people look like naked. 

He just had retained the hope that the reverse might not be true. 

 

The first one to see is Pike, which is about as good as it could get, really. She says nothing, only finishes sealing the cut across his stomach and hands him back his coat. When he thanks her, they both know what deeper meaning it holds. 

 

Scanlan is next. He barges into Percy and Vax’s rented room at the next inn while Percy is half way through scrubbing blood stains out of his clothes for the dozenth time that month. He has the Pepperbox in his hand before either of them have time to realize what’s happened and Scanlan gets his hands up a moment later. Percy doubts that his wide-eyed expression is entirely due to the gun aimed between his eyes. 

“Did you want something?” He asks coolly.

Scanlan steps inside, the  _ shit _ , and closes the door. “You know you could get Tiberius to get those out, right? Magic.”

“I’m sure.” Percy does not lower the gun.

“Only I wouldn’t do it right now. He’s in a mood.”

“I suppose this mood is your fault?”

“What? Me?  _ Nooooo _ . No. Well. Maybe a little. Can I hide in here for a bit?”

Percy considers a moment. Tiberius is not difficult to lie to, and whatever Scanlan did is probably harmless. If it turns out not to be, he can always just point the man out. 

“You’ll owe me one.” He sighs, stowing the Pepperbox again.

“Great.” Scanlan replies, and dives under the bed. 

 

With Keyleth, it’s less accident and more oversight. She drags him into a pond in her boundless enthusiasm. Tiberius had gotten the muck out of his clothes, at least, but Percy still has a fair amount of it in places he really would rather it weren’t. So he squelches up the stream until he reaches clear water with Keyleth on his heels.

He had expected her to leave once he started stripping off his sodden clothes. But she stays, apologizing, as he dumps green water out of his boots, and talks about ways she might be able to save his cravat from ruin. 

“I was thinking Control Water to dry it out?”

“That’s not actually how silk works.” Percy explains as he begins unbuttoning his vest.

“Really?”

And then they both get so distracted talking about weaving methods and different types of fibers that he actually  _ forgets _ until he takes his shirt off and Keyleth stops mid sentence. 

“I’ll. Um.” She says eventually. “I’ll just be back there with the others. Yell if you need me!”

And she leaves. 

 

Grog actually manages to rip his trousers clean in half in an attempt to pants him. 

Percy looks down at the ruin of his clothes, and then up at the self-satisfied man currently clutching a few scraps of cloth. “Well. I think you can count that as a success.”

“Yeah, I bet I can. Hey!” Grog is looking down, presumably to appreciate his handiwork. 

Briefly, Percy considers whether or not he can get away with dropping his face into both hands. 

“Where’d you get those? Ain’t from anythin’ that’s happened since you started with us. I don’t think. Y’don’t get hit in the legs that much.”

“No, not anymore.” Percy confirms. “May I have my pants back, please? I need to fix them.”

“What?” Grog looks at the cloth he holds, considers, and then offers it. “Oh, sure. Wh’not.”

 

Vax is there when Percy succeeds in catching himself on fire. Usually, he stays out of Percy’s tinkering in any of the rented spaces he’s used. Percy can’t say he isn’t glad of the help, this time. Once they have finished beating out the flames-- particularly stubborn ones, thanks to the chemicals he was using-- Percy picks off the last remaining scraps of his shirt and drops them, with a sigh, into the fire. 

“Holy shit, Freddie.”

“Thank you.” Percy replies-- dryly, but not entirely insincere.

“I mean-- that too. But  _ holy fucking shit _ .”

With a sigh, Percy stepped back from the forge. “Do you have a point you’re getting at?”

The look on Vax’s face is a familiar one. The furrow between his brows, the set of his mouth as he tries to work out what to say next. It’s easier to bear from him than it is from his sister. Still, Percy takes care not to turn his back as he goes to find something a little less charred to put on. 

“If you’re done staring, I have more work to get done.”

Vax leaves without a sound. 

 

He really should have known that was never going to be the end of it. 

 

They do him the courtesy of waiting until they have a keep and months to themselves before they approach. Or, more accurately, before they corner him in his half-furnished workshop.

“Is this really the best  _ time? _ ” He asks, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Pike, what do you think of all this?”

She crosses her arms and glares at him in a way that never fails to remind him of his mother, despite the complete lack of resemblance. He manages to meet it for a few seconds before he has to look away to escape the weight of it. 

With a sigh, he sets the wrench on the nearest table. “Well. Let’s get on with it.”

“Are you sure?” Keyleth asks. “We won’t  _ make _ you talk about-- anything you don’t want to. But we are worried about you.”

‘I’m sure that’s true from you, Keyleth. I’m a little less sure about the rest of them.”

“I know how to keep my mouth shut!” Scanlan replies, and obviously fails to see the irony in his statement. 

“I don’t actually know why we’re here.” Tiberius comments. 

Percy fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Actually I don’t either.” Grog raises a hand. “What’s the problem with a coupl’a scars. Or more’na couple. I’ve got a bunch an’ none’a you ever got all-- y’know. Worried.”

“We know how you got yours, Grog.” Pike sets a hand on his knee. “And we  _ do _ worry. It’s just… well it’s different. I don’t think you and Percy got them the same way.”

“We just want you to know you can talk to us, Freddie.” 

Vax has that earnest look in his eyes. The almost kicked puppy one that’s usually reserved for his sister, or for when someone’s bleeding out in front of them and Vax has finally dropped all his pretenses of not caring more than is good for him about absolutely everything. He supposes he should find it flattering, but--

He looks at Vex. 

Her expression is-- not what he feared, not really. She has a crease between her brows, and her mouth has pulled into something that isn’t quite a frown. If he had more time for self-indulgence, he might have read it as pity. But he tries not to imagine things in her, good or bad. No, this is concern, and concern only. 

For a moment, he wants to tell her. Pike, he thinks, has already guessed. Maybe Vax as well. The rest of them can continue not to have any damn clue, as far as he cares. He loves these people, there’s no denying that, but they do not need to know about this. 

So he tells them that. They take it well, all told. Tiberius leaves as soon as he realizes nothing is going to happen. Grog shrugs and walks off. The rest of them trickle out until only he and Vex remain. He looks at her for a few silent moments, and then offers her a half smile. 

“How much did they tell you?”

“Some.” She sighs, and then approaches slowly. Her hand is warm on his arm. “We’ve all been hurt, Percy. I-- I have things I haven’t told anyone, either, so I think I understand. We’ll try to give you your privacy.”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to kiss him. He goes still, his breath caught in his throat and his eyes fixed on her lips. Then she smiles, steps back, and he exhales. 

“Thank you.”

 

Of course, they all see, eventually. It’s not that he stops caring. It’s just too impractical to try to keep his clothes on around them all the time. But by the time all of them see at once, they know the story, if not the details. It’s… oddly freeing. 

 

Still, it’s different with Vex lying half on top of him. They’re both pleasantly warm, both from activity and alcohol. The sheet’s on the floor somewhere, probably kicked there by Vex. They have the bottle of Courage between them. Percy picks it up and takes a swig. Then he offers it to her. Vex waves it off.

“Mind putting it on the floor then?”

Vex takes it, considers, takes a quick sip, and then sets it down beside the bed. “We can finish that after round two.”

Percy laughs, groans, and drags a hand down over his face. “You know we do have to sleep eventually.” 

“But not just yet.”

“No…” She runs her fingers down to the hollow between his collar bones, and then farther to press her hand flat over his sternum. “Percy…” 

“Mmm?” He lowers his hand and looks over at her. “Dear?”

Her hand shifts, then, and her fingers align with a set of new bullet scars. Healing magic can close most things without a mark, or at least with a much fainter one. The blows that kill a person have to take some price, even if the death itself doesn’t stick. With a sigh, he brings a hand up and covers Vex’s. 

“I’m alright, darling.”

“That’s very sweet. But you and I both know that’s bullshit.” She turns her head and kisses the tally marks cut into his arm.

Percy sucks in a deep breath. “Vex.”

“Do you expect me to be okay?”

“No!” He starts to sit up, only to have her hand on his chest bring him up short. 

“So do us both a favor and stop expecting yourself to be.” 

He looks at her for a moment, and then sinks back. “I am better than I’ve been in a long time.”

Vex smiles, and then kisses another mark-- an older burn from a mishap in the lab, not from Ripley. “I’ve noticed.”

“Oh?” His hand wanders down her back and slides over the curve of her ass. 

“Definitely.” With a grin, Vex reaches back down, grabs the bottle of courage, and then sits upright. 

“I thought you said  _ after _ .”

She settles astride him, pulls the cork out with her teeth, and then holds up the bottle. “I changed my mind. I thought I’d combine them.”

In the end, she finds every single scar he has.


End file.
